


The case of the girl in the river

by punkypeggy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, POV First Person, Pre-Reichenbach, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:56:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkypeggy/pseuds/punkypeggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds a dead girl under the Thames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The case of the girl in the river

_There’s a path running under the city_   
_Where the stones and the hills divide_   
_There’s a path we can walk through the loss and the pity_   
_She’s out of the light, she thought it’d be safer_   
_She said “I wanna go home”_   
  
_Eyes turn grey like her face in the paper_

  
***

  
London is a whore. Only not quite. London is a tease. It promises everything, and in the end, it gives nothing. Friendships. A better work. A better career. Being in the centre of the world.  
  
Not many are lucky, even though many are talented. So, it’s really not uncommon to find bodies floating on the Thames. I cross my fingers everytime. It probably sickens John. I still prefer murders over suicides.

  
***

  
_There’s a girl sleeping under the river_   
_Where the snow and the rain collide_   
_There’s a girl that we watch and we’ll soon be with her_   
_She’s out of the light, she doesn’t remember_   
_She said “I wanna go home”_   
  
_Face turns white like the sky in December_

  
***

  
  
She wasn’t older than twenty five. I recognised her immediately, since her face had been populating the newspapers’ pages since a few days ago. There were no signs of violence on her body, as both Anderson and Lestrade noticed as well. She simply jumped. I hate suicides.

  
***

  
_There’s a place we can all be together_   
_Where the moon and the stars reside_   
_There’s a place we can go where we’ll sleep forever_   
_We’re out of the light, we’ll never remember_   
_Do you wanna go home?_

  
***

  
  
John has this theory in which I always want them to be murders because I am some sort of machiavelic genius/sadist/machine that feeds on human suffering, or on blood, or on severed arteries or severed limbs, or on gunshots, stabbings, or decapitations.   
  
The truth is that suicides  _offend_  me.  
  
It’s not that I think we cannot decide to end our lives because they were given by a higher power or some nonsense like that. We cannot decide to end our lives because we’ve _earned_ them, through billions of years of evolution. Who would give his full salary up to a complete stranger right after getting it? Nobody. It’s ridiculous. I cannot understand it. It’s simply not logical.  
  
I make sure to let John know this every single time. He knows my views, even though most of the times he asks me to shut up because it’s “not polite” to express them loudly in front of the family and friends of the deceased. But I choose the time. Because I know that deep down, that moment will be imprinted in his memory. He won’t be able to erase it. Consider it training. I hate to improvise.  
  
And he’ll know, in due time, when I do what I have to do. He’ll know. It’ll be out of place. It won’t fit. It will make something click in his mind. He knows me. He has to understand my _final note_.  
  
  
***

  
_There’s a black house burning in the moonlight_   
_We’re standing at the door and there’s no one in sight_   
_This will all be over tonight_   
  
_There’s something in the dark and I wanna go home_   
_There’s someone else here, we’re not alone_   
_This will all be over tonight_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fragments from “Leaving tonight”, by The Birthday Massacre


End file.
